my end and my beginning
by lilabut
Summary: The need to prove him wrong is almost as overwhelming as the sadness and the relief that push through to the surface now, all her strength fading. post 3x17


post 3x17

* * *

Tears spill over when he confesses.

_she cursed me. my kiss will take your magic. she will kill everyone you love. so sorry. forgive me._

Crystal clear like diamonds as they leave the blue orbs that remind her of summer skies, trailing down his face, past the scar that pulls her in, past the stubble that is growing darker each day, eventually falling from his clenched jaw, splashing silently onto black leather like raindrops.

There is so much sadness in his eyes that he can not possibly contain it, its cold and sharp claws reaching out and clenching around her own heart.

Suddenly, all her mind can focus on are his lips. They quiver, despite the warmth of the dimly lit room. Silent tears gather at their curve, glistening almost beautifully. He seems to have more to say, yet the words die on the tip of his tongue that peaks out to catch a stray tear.

In this moment, they seem to be all she needs. The comforting words they have always spoken, the smiles and grins that could light her up like nothing else, their touch, soft but urgent - a memory that does not seem to blur. From the moment her lost memories had flooded her mind, it has been the most vivid, the damp forest around them still rustling in her ears, his fingers still sifting through her hair, the ragged sound of his short breaths still rising goose bumps on her skin.

Now that nothing but sadness remains, Emma finally confesses to herself. Everything she has, for so long, tried to hide away, brush over to focus and to avoid the pain that rushes through her now.

A car drives by outside, interrupting the deafening silence of the room. They stand far apart, immobile, too afraid, too fragile and broken to move. Emma fears that she might crumble to dust the second she even dares to blink. Her body feels as if it has been set on fire – a wicked green flame that crawls beneath her skin, burning with rage. She can see in his eyes that there is no strength left in him to move. He has given up on himself, has surrendered, has poured all his belief into the notion that he is a villain, that he deserves no happy ending, and that his life will end alone, unloved and broken-hearted. It is all there, embroidered onto every tear that leaves salty trails on his skin.

The need to prove him wrong is almost as overwhelming as the sadness and the relief that push through to the surface now, all her strength fading. Somehow, her legs push her forwards.

Nothing in the world could ease the pain of losing him. Quietly, he has worked his way into her heart, and to let him go now would tear it out of her chest, without the need of any magic.

Magic. It always comes with a prize, but she will not let him pay in her stead.

It is the brush of her palm against his cheek that causes his eyes to flutter shut - and she is so close she can make out speckles of green in them before they are hidden from her, dark lashes casting darker shadows.

His warm tears soak her skin, and she takes it all, wants everything now that she can not have it, now that he can not give it to her.

She knows he would tear his heart out with his own hook and hand it to her if she asked him to. The thought scares her, like his devotion always has, and she takes a deep breath when her cheek comes to rest against his chest, almost bare and warm and drumming steadily beneath her. She closes her own eyes, listens to the beating of his heart as his chin rests on top of her head and hesitant arms wrap themselves around her.

It is all too much - his breathing, the sobs he is choking down, the scent of salt and leather and her own shivering as her lips press against the bare skin of his chest.

_I am so sorry, Emma_. His whispered apology brings tears to her own eyes, and she looks up into his honest face, all his long years having left their scars. Softly, she presses her fingertips against his lips, feels the warmth of his shaky exhale and the familiar softness. A warm glow fills her, speckled by the sharp splinters of sadness.

She hates it that he apologizes, wants to soak up the words, soak up his guilt to ease his pain. Instead, she rises onto her toes, pushing forward as he begins to pull back, and presses her lips softly against his cheek. She breathes there for a moment, allowing him to fall back into their embrace, because she is as selfish as he is and needs him to hold her, needs to feel that he is still here.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck as her own tears spill over, violent sobs she can no longer control. For too long, she has buried everything deep down, every fear and every worry. He has always known her better than anyone, and she can feel her own pain echoing in his touch as he clutches her against his chest.

_Killian_, she whimpers as he brushes his lips against the side of her neck, warm and damp and followed by more tears as they sink onto their knees. Emma clutches her hands around his neck, holding him as close as she can, crawling beneath his skin as his hand slips beneath her shirt.

Everything is warm and cold at the same time, and she needs him so much she can barely breathe. Too many words die on her tongue, too many breaths she can not take as her heart swells painfully.

When he brushes his palm against the bare plane of her stomach, she looks up at him, feels regret filling her up like a filigree glass that spills over. She should have given him a chance sooner, should have feared less and dared more. All she can do now is nudge her nose against his neck and inhale his scent, clutching his bare arms as he breathes on her skin.

She can barely take a second of being separated from him, clutching at his shoulders as he fumbles with the laces of his leather pants, her lips leaving a burning trail across his collarbone. He mirrors her despair, holding her against him so tightly she can barely kick of the jeans that have pooled around her ankles.

It is all too much, his warm weight above her, their shared tears leaving trails on trembling skin, his eyes widening curiously as she gently stops him from removing the hook - she wants all of him, the good man, the pirate, everything he can give to her - nervous hands roaming, clutching, always pulling closer, the soft groan as he sinks into her, the burn of the rough floor beneath her back, her name a chant on his lips as he rocks slowly into her.

His lips.

Red and raw, soft and chopped, pressed against her throat, whispering her name, nipping at her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine as he pulls her into his lap. She trails them with her fingertip, aches to lean in and kiss him, the pull almost too strong to resist.

She wraps her arms around him, moves slowly, almost too slow for the burning coil that is forming low in her belly, but she needs this to last, needs to never be apart from him again, because he is in pain and there are still tears in his eyes as he clutches her to him, the cool curve of his hook pressing into her lower back.

Their breaths mingle, warm and damp and so close that she can almost feel his lip on her own. There are words hovering at the tip of her tongue, dangerous words she is not yet brave enough to speak out loud, but she prays that he can see them in her eyes, look past the tears into her soul as he always has.

She almost whimpers when his hand slips down to where they are joined, his eyes shining as he watches her, almost no space to breathe between them.

_I want to kiss you so badly, Emma._ He speaks so quietly she can barely hear him, the words ragged and riddled with agony. Fresh tears gather in her eyes, but she leans forward and kisses away his own before he can see hers.

_I love you_, he whispers after, as he leans against the wall, Emma curling up against his chest. His chest is heaving with heavy breaths, and Emma tries to calm his racing heart with soft kisses across his chest, their fingers interlaced.

She looks up at him, tears finally dried, cheeks red and full of life, and she trails her fingers across her lips before touching them against his. A part of her, one that is warm and tired and peaceful right now wants to whisper the words in return, mumble them sleepily into the crook of his neck, because she knows it would be the truth.

But there is no future for them right now, because she needs her magic, and she needs her family, but she needs him just as much, and so she clings to him tighter, allows for her voice to steady before she speaks. _Stay with me._

His lips stretch into a careful smile, and it is the last thing Emma thinks about before she allows the peace and comfort to lull her into sleep.


End file.
